


Dear Dean

by Thatother1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel is Not Okay, Castiel used to go by the name "Hannah", Gen, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt No Comfort, I don't know if this will have a happy ending or not, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panphobia?, Pansexual Castiel, Sad Castiel, Transgender Castiel, Transphobia, no canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatother1/pseuds/Thatother1
Summary: Something is supposed to be there -here-with me...xoxo Cass~*~Castiel writes a series of letters to his Dean.





	1. A Note For Dean

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N :** This first "letter" is extremely short, because I just wanted to put this idea out there while it is on my mind. Not beta'd. I have no idea where this is going, or how regular updates will be. We will see. Cass could use some love guys; we're going to be doing some deep introspection the farther along this gets.

**Dear Dean,**

Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself, “Castiel, you can do this. You can get through this day without missing him. You can make it. You won’t think about him. You won’t look at all those silly selfies we took together, or the pictures you took when he was sleeping with his mouth open. You won’t do or say anything to remind you of him. You can do this.” 

Of course, that plan is always a bust. 

By the time I’ve finished my first cigarette of the day, there’s a niggling in the back of my mind. A nudge that wants to think about you. About how, when you’re not being cruel about it, your morning grumpiness can be cute – and how I didn’t get to see that this morning. 

Or by the time I start lunch, and I wonder if you would enjoy what I cook. I think you would. 

Or by the time that the slow-crawling afternoon comes around, and I begin to feel anxious – nervous, and restless, because there’s something missing. Something is supposed to be there – _here_ – with me, and there is a gaping hole in my chest. That emptiness begins to feel all-consuming, as if it is draining the life from my life. 

I think it is. 

**xoxo Cass**


	2. P.S. Happy birthday, Honey Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Even though I'm pretty sure it was small, and sad, it was a smile and it was genuine._

**Dear Dean,**

I was trying to think of some specific reasons I love you (because I could tell it meant a lot to you that there should be some specifics) and I couldn’t think earlier, but one just came to me that is now glaringly obvious: you love to make me laugh, and I love that about you. 

Like it’s a goal of yours to make me smile and laugh as often as you can (occasionally even when were fighting). Nobody else has ever done that – at least, not to the extent that you do – you’re the only one and you have done it since the moment I met you. 

Do you remember where we met? It was at McDonald’s, of all the unlikely and strange places to meet the person you end up married to for 7 years (though, it’s not officially 7 years until September). I was uploading the last chapters of some fan fictions I had written, and I was also writing suicide notes. But that part doesn’t matter right now, I guess. 

You came in and I heard your dad say, quietly, “You wanna find somewhere else to sit?” 

You had your laptop with you, and I was sitting in the very corner chair in the section that had the only outlets available. I was listening to that tiny conversation, and I was thinking to myself, _Something big is about to happen._

To your dad, you said, “No, it’s fine.” 

Then, you sat down beside me, and said, “I like your clothes.” 

I was wearing black skinny jeans, my slightly-worn original-style high-top Chuck Taylor’s, and a Misfits t-shirt. 

I said, “Thanks, you too.” 

I wanted to die of embarrassment at my awkwardness. I might be wrong, but, thinking back I think maybe you were feeling awkward too. You were the first person I had an actual conversation with in a whole year’s time (you were also the first person I touched, or let touch, me in even longer – but I’ll get to that later). 

I remember you went outside McDonald’s for a cigarette and asked if I wanted one. I said no because I had recently quit (yeah, I know it didn’t stick) and so I stayed talking to your dad in that little corner. I don’t even remember what we talked about, but I remember feeling heartbroken and it must have showed clearly on my face because you walked back in and took one look at me and said, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Smile.”

And then you smiled at me, and I smiled back. Even though I’m pretty sure it was small, and sad, it was a smile and it was genuine. 

Before we parted ways that day, we exchanged phone numbers and you hugged me; I believe I was touch-starved in the literal sense. 

I could talk about how you also make me feel a lot of negative emotions, but I don’t want to – not today, anyway. 

Because I’m not sad, not right now. I’m not mad at the moment. Anxious – yes, I’m actually quite anxious; I always feel on-edge. It’s a simmering anxiety, just bubbling along steadily, but it’s manageable. But I’m not sad, and I’m not mad, so I count it a win for now. 

I just wanted to be able to give you something of value, even if I can’t see you, or hear your voice. I place a lot of value in this, because I was able to pick out a specific reason I love you, and I _know_ it means a lot to you – to know _why_ I love you. 

And I do, I love that you try to make me laugh like it’s your life’s purpose. I love you for that. That is one reason why. 

I love you.

I miss you. 

**xoxo Cass**

P.S. Happy birthday, Honey Bee 


End file.
